An Accidental Seduction
by Incarnadine
Summary: None of it was supposed to happen. They weren't even supposed to *like* each other, let alone fall in love. But then a series of coincidental - or possibly not so coincidental - meetings and a severe case of pre-wedding jitters pave the way to social disaster. And possibly true love... but with these two, who can tell? H/G, D/G. [Post-DH one shot, ignores epilogue.]


**Disclaimer:** Based on characters and scenarios created by J.K. Rowling. I do not own anything.

**Author's Note:** This is the first complete one shot I have written in over 6 years. It is set post-_Deathly Hallows_ and makes the best of having to take the events of that book into account, though it disregards both the epilogue and any information provided in author interviews. The story is told as a series of connected scenes, with varying amounts of time between them. You may consider the interval between Scene VI and Scene VII to be as long as you think right and proper.

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**An Accidental Seduction**

I.

Whatever Harry might have said about debts and obligations, she isn't really sure why they're here at all. Here, at the funeral of a woman neither of them really knew or cared a damn about. There isn't any reason for them to have come, not that she can see, anyway. She doesn't bother to ask him for an explanation; she already knows that if he doesn't want to give one, he won't, and no amount of asking will do any good. Sometimes it's easy to remember that he was Albus Dumbledore's prize student. He can even manage to make his eyes twinkle in that infuriatingly knowing way, when he feels like it - it's the only look Ginny wishes she could slap off his face. She loves him, of course, but that look drives her mad, and not in the good way.

The funeral seems more like a social occasion than a solemn memorial. And in a way it is - just the last dinner party Narcissa Malfoy will ever host, not really anything to do with mourning her at all. Why should anyone mourn? Nobody will miss her. She thinks that, and then almost instantly revises it when she sees a truly devastated face. Draco Malfoy isn't crying, but he looks as if he's forgotten how. There's pain and misery in his eyes - true misery, beyond words, beyond tears, beyond any sort of expression at all. It surprises her, but she feels sorry for him. Pity and compassion sink sharp as needles into her mind, and for a moment she hates everyone here, herself and Harry included, for interrupting his private grief. He is the only one with a right to be here. Their presence is an intrusion, and she respects him for not telling them so.

Malfoy doesn't seem offended by their presence, though. Nor is he particularly surprised. He doesn't seem anything, really, so much as _tired_. "I'm glad you're here," he says to Harry when they go to give their condolences. His flat tone isn't glad at all - but at least it holds no animosity. "If it wasn't for you, my mother might have died in prison. That might not sound like much, but it means a lot to me." There is no energy left in his voice or his body, but his sincerity is obvious enough to make Harry look at his feet in embarrassment. He'd probably be less uncomfortable with the situation if Malfoy punched him in the jaw.

"I - she saved my life." Harry manages to get the words out, somehow. "I owe her more than I'll ever get the chance to repay now." He sighs, and Malfoy looks still more wretched - which surprises Ginny, since she hadn't thought such a thing was possible. "If there's anything I can do," Harry adds, quickly, "don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks," Malfoy says, his voice completely toneless and dead. "But I'm alright, really." He doesn't look alright. He looks as if he'll never be alright again. She understands, though - he can't bring himself to accept help from Harry, just as Harry would never accept help from _him_, were their situations reversed. Still, the offer doesn't seem to offend him; in fact, she's almost sure that it amuses him in some dark, morbid way.

His duty done and his debt as much repaid as it ever can be, Harry doesn't make the offer again and doesn't insist on it being accepted. He drifts away into the crowd of insincere mourners, but Ginny lingers behind for a moment, looking at Malfoy. There are dark circles around his eyes, standing out against his pale skin. He hasn't been sleeping, she can tell that much. It's not really surprising, though; she can't even begin to imagine how she'd feel if her mother died. Harry wouldn't understand, she thinks, disloyally. He never knew his mother. He'll never really know what it's like to lose one. Malfoy knows. And one day, Ginny will, too.

It's the horror of that last thought that makes her say it. "I'm really sorry. About your mum."

He looks at her, and there's something there. Some sort of gratitude, perhaps - because she's heartbreakingly sincere, and it seems that he can tell that. She's not sorry that Narcissa Malfoy is dead, not really - but she _is_ sorry he's hurting, and that there's nothing she can do to fix it. He tries to smile, and nearly succeeds. "Thanks." This time when he says it, there's some warmth in his voice, answering the honest feeling in hers. "I was sorry, too. That your brother died. Well. That so many people died. And that I lived." He takes a deep breath, suddenly shaking with emotion. Apparently he _hasn't_ forgotten how to feel. "No. I _am_ sorry. That you lost your brother."

It touches her, because no one has ever really bothered to single Fred out before, from all the other faceless fighters slain at a castle that was supposed to be a school. Because she still misses him every day, even if it doesn't hurt quite as much now as it did in the beginning. Before all of this happened, Malfoy used to torment her and she used to retaliate with violence, but now here they are recognising and trying clumsily to soothe each other's pain. "Yeah. Me too." This time he really does smile, if weakly. "Thanks, Malfoy." The memory of Fred makes her tear up a little, to her horror. "I... sorry. I don't really have the right to cry at your mother's funeral."

He shrugs. "No one else will." His eyes rest on the assembled mourners, steel grey and filled with anger, but he doesn't say anything about them. He just stands there in silence, until he bursts out with: "If I start crying, I'll never stop." He looks down at the ground, and she can see a muscle working in his jaw. He's very close to breaking, she realises. No one would think any less of him if he did, but he's a proud man, and she thinks he'd rather die than be seen showing emotion in public. After a moment he looks up again, and says in a more normal voice: "Potter's looking for you."

For one irrational beat of her heart, she doesn't want to go with Harry. Malfoy needs help, needs someone to talk to, more than Harry needs his girlfriend on his arm. But then she takes another breath and reminds herself that Malfoy isn't her friend, that his misery isn't her responsibility or her problem to solve. "Oh. Right. I suppose I'd better go, then."

He nods, a strange sad smile curling up one corner of his mouth. "Yeah. Before he comes over here and hexes me."

"At your mother's funeral?" She knows that there's no love lost between them, but even so - "Even - uh, I don't think Harry would do that. But I probably ought to go, anyway."

He nods, but before she goes he catches hold of her hands and says, in a low voice, "Look, I... I really am happy you came, okay?" She's surprised to hear him say that and apparently mean it, but in a way it makes sense to her. So she smiles at him before taking her leave, and she's happy when she sees him smile in return, a slightly less despairing light in his pale eyes. And when she goes back to Harry, and he asks what she and Malfoy were talking about, she decides to play the enigmatic card for once. It doesn't go down very well.

II.

The day after the announcement in the _Daily Prophet_, she runs into him in Diagon Alley. She wonders, idly, if it really is a coincidence, but she can't think of any reason why it wouldn't be. He seems ready to be friendly and polite, unlike every other time - bar one - that they've met, and she knows that he's still thinking of the last time they spoke, at his mother's funeral. Given the circumstances, it would be pretty hard for him to forget that day.

"Morning, Weasley," he says, cheerfully enough. "I suppose I should congratulate you on getting the world's most eligible bachelor to propose."

It hadn't been difficult. She hadn't done anything at all. "Jealous, Malfoy?"

He laughs. "Sure." There's a wicked glint in his eye. "It's always been my life's dream to bugger Harry Potter, you selfish witch."

"Oh, really?" Ginny's heart feels lighter than it has in ages, and her Weasley mischievous streak is definitely back in action. "Please tell me you're being serious; if you are, Ron owes me ten Galleons."

Malfoy chokes. "You haven't really got money riding on my sexuality, have you?" Then he seems to recall that he's in the middle of the street, because he draws himself up and says, "I mean, I can't believe you've got the gold to waste on such nonsense, Weasley. Did you mortgage your house?"

It's so obviously a joke that even Ron wouldn't take offense. Probably. "Remember who's marrying the most eligible bachelor in the world?" Although, really, Harry's money is the last thing she cares about. She likes to think she'd have agreed to marry him if he didn't have a Knut to his name. "Okay, no, we never made a bet on that. I did wonder sometimes, given how obsessed you seemed to be."

"Last time I checked, threatening to kill someone didn't count as a romantic overture." Malfoy seems more amused than anything. "Mind you, it has been a while since I read that particular book." He rolls his eyes, and then asks, more seriously, "So how are you feeling?"

And because it's _Malfoy_ asking her how she feels, which is just about the most bizarre thing in the world, she doesn't respond with the words she's supposed to say. If it was anyone else doing the asking, the answer would be _happy_ or _excited_ or _thrilled_, and if pressed maybe she'd talk about being a little nervous. But since it's him... "I don't know." She isn't sure where the words are coming from, only that they're the truth. "Worried, I guess. What if we're too young? What if this isn't the right thing for us after all?" He's looking at her, puzzled, so she explains: "I mean, yeah, I'm happy about it - most of the time. But I'm... just a bit scared, too."

"I think that sounds like a sensible reaction," he says, and she's so grateful that he isn't making it a big deal that she could kiss him. Not that she actually _would_. "It's a big step. It'd be more strange if you didn't feel like that some of the time." His eyes search her face for - something, she isn't sure what - and she almost thinks he's worried about her. "I mean, as long as it really isn't very often. If it's all the time, maybe you ought to rethink things."

"Right." She thinks about it. Are the doubts significant or not? Is she really just having a sensible reaction to a big decision, or is she making a mistake? "It'll be okay," she says, with more confidence than she feels. "It's a big change; that's probably why I'm nervous."

"Yeah." Malfoy smiles at her and then says, in a carefully offhand manner: "Do you want to talk about it at all?"

Ginny shakes her head, though really she _does_ want to talk about it, and he's the only person she can think of who won't judge her or act like her doubts make her disloyal to Harry. "I would, but I can't. Harry Potter's wedding is big news. If I talk too loud about anything, the flies on the wall will report back to the _Daily Prophet_."

"You mean the beetles." Malfoy snickers, but then he frowns. "And it's your wedding, too." She wonders if he's only pointing that out because he doesn't like Harry, or for some other reason.

"Oh, yeah, but that bit is kind of lost on the _Daily Prophet_ and_ Witch Weekly_," she says, trying not to sound too bitter. She doesn't usually mind the attention Harry gets, because she knows how much he hates it; she'd feel bad being envious of him for something he doesn't even want. Most of the time. But this is different. This is _her goddamn wedding_. Hers! And no one cares. It could be anyone marrying Harry Potter, for all it would matter to anyone outside the Weasley family. The bride doesn't matter for once. Not when it's the happily ever after for the big damn hero. Ginny grimaces. She doesn't like herself for feeling this way. And she _really_ doesn't like herself for being happy that maybe Malfoy agrees with her.

"Trashy rags," he says, in haughty tones. Then, in a more normal voice: "Don't read them if it upsets you." He smiles. "Well, if you don't want to risk talking about your fear of commitment over coffee in a public place, I'd better be getting along. Puppies to kick, innocents to terrorise - you know, the usual stuff."

She's almost sure that he's joking.

III.

It's the five year anniversary of the climactic battle at Hogwarts, and there are only six weeks to go until her wedding. Ginny has laid most of her fears to rest now, and the few that remain she fights off by reminding herself that the future is always scary, and no one ever knows how anything will go. It fits with the theme of the day, really; during her sixth year at school, she didn't know how things were going to end. They'd rebelled against the Death Eater teachers without knowing that they'd eventually be saved, just because it was the right thing to do. And so she can get married without knowing how it's going to turn out, just because she loves Harry. Worrying too much is Hermione's thing, anyway, not hers.

She knows Malfoy is at the function before she ever lays eyes on him. She's heard people muttering, questioning whether he even has any right to be there. Everyone knows he was on the wrong side of things, and even if his family _did_ convert during that battle, it's not like he raised a finger to help. Maybe, as someone who lost a relative that day, she ought to resent his presence as so many others seem to. But she can't. She _knows_ Malfoy now, and heaven help her she might even _like_ him, at least a little. And even without that, he's done a lot to help since the end of the war, things that the mutterers should well know about, but choose to forget in favour of sniping at Slytherins.

They meet by chance at the punch bowl, which at any Weasley function would be spiked - but this one has been organised by the Ministry and so it's _probably_ safe. He seems pleased to see her, and this almost seems to transfer over to Harry as well. But not quite. She doesn't think they'll ever like each other, those two. Too much history for that. They don't seem to hate each other anymore, though, which is better than nothing. If it matters at all, that is - and she isn't sure why it should, except that somehow it does.

Harry says, "Oh, Malfoy, how nice to see you again." He doesn't mean it, and they all know he doesn't, but they're all much better at acting now than they were when they were children. "I read that article in the paper the other day about your charitable fund."

"The reporter was a frightful suck-up," Malfoy says, with a hint of a wry grin. "They all get like that when they hear about how much money has been put into the fund, though."

"As if paying your way back into the public's good graces isn't second nature to all of you Death Eater families?" Harry isn't going to play nice now, not about this. Ginny knows that he's angry because, while Malfoy's fund takes money from 'reformed' Death Eaters and puts it towards helping their victims, Harry would much rather they all rotted in jail. It's probably terribly disloyal of her to think this way, but it seems to her that the fund is actually far more useful than show trials and prison time.

Malfoy shrugs. "Well, yeah. Father's first impulse was always to try to buy his way out of trouble. I thought that would be a great thing to harness to get Galleons for rebuilding projects or anything else the Ministry might want." A faint smirk drifts across his face. "Of course, if that results in Draco Malfoy, indispensable patron of the Ministry of Magic, then that's quite alright with me."

"God forbid you actually help someone _without_ it being a political stunt," Harry says, in a voice heavy with sarcasm, and in the end Ginny has to intervene before they start having an argument and she has to take sides.

In a low voice, she says: "Harry, this isn't the time or the place to have an argument with Malfoy. Don't let him get to you, okay? Go talk to someone else. I'll handle the git." And he flashes her a grateful smile that somehow makes her feel guilty, before departing with barely a nod to his supposed former enemy. As soon as she's gone, she looks up at Malfoy and sees that he's barely containing what looks like a fit of the giggles. "What exactly is so funny?" she asks, in a rather stony voice. Unfortunately the question almost makes him lose his composure entirely, and she has to wait for a few moments before he's fit to answer.

"If I didn't know better, Weasley, I'd think you were getting Potter out of the way so that we could talk," he says, his eyes dancing.

"I suppose it's just as well you _do_ know better, then."

"Quite." His smile looks devious in the extreme, and Ginny wonders if she ought to be scared. "I'd like to know exactly how you plan on _handling_ me, though." He is a terrible person, she remembers, though she isn't sure if he's flirting or just teasing her. She hits him anyway, a hard blow to the upper arm. It'll probably leave a bruise; professional Quidditch players aren't exactly weak. "Ow! Damn it, you savage, you've broken my arm!" Ginny rolls her eyes and refuses to apologise or offer any sympathy, so Malfoy quickly stops pretending to be injured. "So, the wedding is in a few weeks, isn't it?" he asks, innocently enough. She isn't sure she _likes_ Malfoy asking about the wedding, but she doesn't know why. Maybe it just seems wrong that he should be.

"Yeah. You _know_ when it is, Malfoy. You were invited." And she has no idea why they let her do that - unless it's just the fear of her making a scene, the way they think brides ought to. She's been so sweet and reasonable about everything to do with the wedding preparations that everyone is just waiting for her to explode over _something_. Although, really, she can't see why anyone would think that excluding Malfoy from the guest list would ever be the thing to make her snap. "Honestly, you're welcome to come," she says, noticing that he looks a little bemused by the whole thing.

He snorts. "I gathered that from the invitation." His voice is that old, once familiar drawl, though his arched brow makes him seem more sarcastic than unkind.

Ginny scowls. He does still have the potential to be annoying. "Well, no, all that means is that you were sent an invitation. I'm telling you that you're actually welcome, and you didn't just get an invitation card because someone was being polite. Or got high on Cheering Charms and went overboard. It wouldn't be the first time." With a jolt, she realises that this is a Fred story, something she hasn't thought about in years - and now it barely hurts her at all to think about it. She isn't sure, really, if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But then, it _has_ been five years.

"Given your family's reputation, I did think it might be a joke," he says, cautiously. She wonders if he would've turned up at all if she hadn't reassured him, or if he'd have been too afraid for his precious dignity. "But since you assure me that you actually do wish the pleasure of my company, I suppose I might be able to find some time in my diary for the wedding of the century."

She flushes. Harry Potter's wedding _will _be that. Somehow she forces the unworthy feelings down inside and says, brightly, "I should warn you now - you may well have jokes played on you when you get there. It _is_ a Weasley wedding, after all."

Malfoy's grin is practically diabolical. "With their focus on the groom, one wonders if the press has forgotten that little fact." Her eyes widen as she realises what he's suggesting. She'll have to call her brothers and see what they can do. A matching grin spreads across her face, and when Malfoy sees it he looks rather smug. "Well, then. I look forward to the mayhem - as long as _most_ of it is directed at other people, of course."

"I can ask them to restrict it to the _Daily Prophet_ reporters," she says. "I mean, Harry hates them and doesn't even want them to be there. I'm sure it'd make his day as well."

"That makes it sound almost like an interesting party, Weasley." His voice is full of genuine happiness, barely mocking at all. It's a pleasant sound. He favours her with a polite nod. "I look forward to it."

IV.

Two hours to go.

_I don't want to do this._

The thoughts inside her head are last minute nerves, stupid little jitters that everyone gets, and she shouldn't pay any attention to them.

_Why am I doing this? Because I want to? Or because I have to? Because I love him? Or because everything is booked and everyone is watching?_

She shakes her head in the vain hope that it will knock the terrible thoughts clean out. This is supposed to be the happiest day of her life. It isn't. She doesn't know how this is supposed to go - she's never got married before - but she's pretty sure that she isn't supposed to be dreading it. Isn't supposed to be gripped by the terrible fear that she's making a mistake, that she shouldn't be doing this at all, let alone now. She should be the perfect bride for Harry, the perfect accessory to the golden hero's golden wedding. But nothing about it is perfect, nothing fits quite right, and all she really wants to do is scream.

There is a knock at the door, and she's so tightly wound that she jumps nearly out of her skin and lets out an embarrassing high-pitched squeal. She sighs. Of course it's too much to ask that she should be left alone, even for half an hour. Someone would have to bother her now, wouldn't they? _Can't I even panic and rethink my entire life in peace?_ Maybe they know, she thinks, paranoia taking over. Maybe they won't let her alone because they're afraid she'll change her mind. She knows that's stupid, though. No one knows about her doubts, no one but her and-

"Malfoy." It would be him, now, wouldn't it? She doesn't think she's ever been happier to see anyone in her whole life. The nerves are suffocating her, and he's the only person who will listen, rather than shut her up and tell her what she already knows, words about love and fairness and leaving things too late. Although… it is too late now, really, isn't it? She grabs Malfoy by the arm and yanks him bodily into the room, ignoring his yelp of surprise, not caring what he might think. "I'm so glad to see you." The words burst out of her in a rush, and she can't stop them. "I'm dying here."

He looks at her very seriously, and seems to be weighing up possible replies. Eventually, he says, "Okay. So either Potter poisoned you - and I don't think he would; he's too sickeningly _good_ - or you're not literally dying, just bloody terrified because you've got no idea what you're doing."

She's impressed in spite of herself. "You're good."

Malfoy lets out a remarkably dirty laugh. "You're not the first girl to say that, I can tell you."

For some reason, something about that makes her all… tingly inside, but she ruthlessly suppresses the feeling. After all, it's _Malfoy_; he might, ridiculously, have become a friend, but not… "Piss off," she snaps back, though with very little rancour. "Be serious for once in your life."

"I'm frequently serious," he says, but he wipes the smile from his face and tries to behave himself. "Anyway, I'm not reading your mind; I just recognised my own 'oh crap what the hell am I doing' expression when I looked at you." He shrugs. "It's normal to be nervous before your wedding, or so I've been told. It's not like I have any first-hand experience."

Ginny wants to cry, but she doesn't. "This is my only first-hand experience, so I have no idea if this is the way I'm meant to feel." She looks right at Malfoy. His eyes are glowing with some emotion she can't identify. Her breathing seems to be slightly uneven. "I don't think - I don't think I want to do this."

"As I said, I don't have any experience of this - but I still don't think you're supposed to feel like that." He looks at her steadily, as if he's trying to read her somehow - though she's fairly sure he isn't actually a Legilimens. Fortunately. "Any particular reason?" he asks, in a quiet voice devoid of inflection. "Or is it just a general disinclination to marry Potter? Believe me, I can sympathise with that completely; I wouldn't want to be tied to him for the rest of my life either."

It isn't really funny, but hysterical laughter bubbles out of her uncontrollably. "I don't know." It sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth. She doesn't want to do this anymore but she has no idea why. "This is so stupid. What am I supposed to do?"

Malfoy looks very grim all of a sudden. "I can't tell you," he says. "Aside from the obvious - if you don't want to marry him, _don't do it_ - there's not much I can say to help you." He sighs. "I know it seems far too late to change your mind, but now is better than after you're married."

"I can't." She's scared; she knows she doesn't have the strength to stand up in front of all those people and tell them she can't go through with it. How is she supposed to face her family? Her friends? The press? Worst of all, how can she look Harry in the eye and do this to him? She can't. It would be too cruel. "Everyone wants this, Draco, I can't… I don't know _how_." His eyebrows raise slightly when she uses his first name, but he doesn't say anything. "Everyone wants me to marry him - except me."

Draco gives a low, slightly gravelly chuckle that sends warmth all through her body. "Oh, I wouldn't say that." He looks down at the ground as though collecting himself, and then he meets her eyes fully, anguished grey into tortured brown. "Not quite everyone… Ginny."

"You mean - you…"

"Yeah. I would very much rather you didn't marry him, which is why I can't help you. I'm too biased." He pulls a rather disgusted-looking face. "This isn't very Slytherin of me. I hope you realise that."

Her brain isn't sure what to do with this information. Other parts of her know all too well what _they'd_ like to do about it. She thinks someone else must have taken over her body, because the next thing she does is to grab the front of Draco's dress robes and pull him towards her, pressing her lips against his. He caves immediately, his arms wrapping around her as he deepens the kiss, nearly bruising her lips in his intensity. His hands are tangled in her hair, his body flush against hers - and she doesn't think she's _ever_ been kissed like this before. By the time they pull apart for air, she's practically shaking with need for him, and he doesn't look much better off.

He does have the presence of mind to take out his wand and murmur an incantation, clearly casting some sort of spell. When she looks at him curiously, he explains, a little breathlessly: "Neat little charm. Anyone who tries to come in here will forget what they're supposed to be doing and go off looking for something else."

Ginny feels a little dizzy. "Is that what you did to me? Make me forget what I'm supposed to be doing?"

"Oh, no." He gives another of those beautiful throaty laughs. "Let me show you what you're supposed to be doing."

His grin is going to be the death of her.

V.

The knowledge of what they did is weighing on her as she stands up next to Harry, waiting for the words that will bind her to him. There isn't any point in thinking about it - she already knows why she did it, and what everyone would do if they found out - but she really can't stop. The only questions that matter are the ones she doesn't know the answer to. What is she going to do about this? Can she really go through with this, marry the hero and live happily ever after, when she'll always know exactly what she did on her wedding day, with her husband's one-time enemy? Is this really the right thing for her to do? Would it be wrong for her to marry Harry, even if she and Draco hadn't... done _that?_

As she stands there, frozen, she realises that she's half-expecting Draco to step in and make some sort of scene. That she's hoping that _he_ will bring a stop to this farce, tell everyone what happened, claim her from Harry like some stupid prize. She even knows which line he should wait for. But she also knows, now that she thinks about it, that he isn't going to do it. Draco doesn't think that she's a prize, and he won't put himself through romance novel clichés to win her or rescue her. That's the most difficult thing about it, she thinks, as the wedding service speeds towards the point where she has to make her decision. This is nothing like being a hero's one true love. It's nothing like the fairy tales. If she wants to be rescued from this situation, she's going to have to do it herself.

VI.

Three weeks later, the _Prophet_ sends someone to interview the team after a spectacular win, and of course it's him. It's not like she didn't _know_ that he'd got onto the sports writing staff somehow - money, the voice in the back of her head whispers, how else? - and she's been expecting him to find some way to meet her since the day of the wedding. And yet somehow she's still surprised to see him there, standing right in front of her in business robes, just as if he hadn't turned her world upside down. Or not exactly. He looks the same, yes, but the way he looks _at her_ isn't the same, not at all.

"Malfoy." She tries to be polite. She's got to be. This is _work_, after all. Her team-mates may know what happened - well, not _all_ of it, just the public version - but here everyone is a professional. Ginny gets the feeling that he doesn't want to play by those rules, though. She knows why he's here. She knows what he wants from her. Is that what _she_ wants, though? Was what happened between them at the wedding just a sign that marrying Harry would be a bad idea? Or did it mean something more than that for her and Malfoy? Draco? Oh, whatever.

"Weasley." He smiles as he just barely emphasises her unchanged name. "I counted at least three world-class goals during that game, you know."

So they're going to talk about the Quidditch game and ignore the _real_ reason why he's there. Right. She sighs. She can handle that. "Thanks." Usually that sort of compliment would make her grin fit to split her face in two. But right now she's far too nervous for that. "If only the England team selectors had been watching, huh?"

"Who knows? Maybe they were. Time will tell." His tone doesn't match what he's saying, not quite, and she can feel that the conversation is slipping onto dangerous ground. She could stop him, cut him off, shoot him down. Close the subject forever. But she doesn't. "Ginny." There's something darker, almost desperate about the way he says her name, and she shivers a little inside. In a slightly louder voice, he says, "Perhaps a personal interview with the star player, after the general interview? If you'd be so kind?"

Ginny knows what he really means, but she pretends she doesn't. An interview. Just an interview. Everything will be fine. "Oh, of course, if you think people will be interested."

His smile is just a little wolfish. "Yes, _people_ definitely will be."

A short while later, they're alone, facing each other across a table. She remembers what happened the _last_ time they were by themselves in a room, and she can't help but flush. Angry with herself, with him, she snaps, "What do you want, Malfoy? To talk about Quidditch? Or...?"

"Whatever you want." His voice sounds curiously colourless. "If all you want from me is to talk about Quidditch with a reporter, I can do that."

"That's not what _you_ want, though."

At that, his face comes alive in a contorted snarl that makes her sit back a little, alarmed by the sudden change. "No, you're damn right it's not what I want! Take fifty fucking points for Gryffindor!" He slams his arms down on the table - but the noise seems to shake him back into his more usual manner. "Sorry." He seems a little ashamed of his violent outburst. "Really. I didn't mean... it's just that, when you didn't marry Potter after all, I might have… let myself hope. You know. That you might want to - that you might want _me_."

She's never seen Draco Malfoy stumble over his words like that before. Not once. It's touching, in a strange sort of way. She really wishes she had an answer to give him. A proper answer. "I... Draco." He brightens up as she uses his first name, and she hates herself for what she knows she has to do. "Look. What we did that day? It told me as clear as anything could that getting married to Harry was a bad idea. But I'm not sure where that leaves me. Us. If there even is an us. I don't even know if there should be. I don't know if I even _want_ that." He looks stunned. She feels terrible. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Ginny." If his tone were openly pleading, she would stop him there. But she isn't sure _what_ he's feeling, or what he's going to say, so she lets him go on. "Maybe I should've realised when you didn't say anything that day. I should've known you'd need time to sort it all out in your head. I don't know, maybe I should just leave you alone until you think you're ready." He gives an ironic, lopsided smile that has very little to do with actual happiness. "Though, really, I'm not sure I can. Somehow... you got under my skin." Shaking his head, he looks around at the room they're in. "I'm not sure why I thought this would be a good idea."

She snorts. "Probably because you weren't thinking." She gives him a sly look, and adds: "Or, at least, not with your brain. The one in your head."

Draco laughs out loud. Too loud - but then, he's full of nervous tension, she can see that as clear as day. This is what she's doing to him. And yet she can't promise him anything. Not yet. It's too soon. He gets himself back under control and quietly clears his throat. "Yeah, I probably wasn't." He reaches across the table and takes her hand gently in his. She doesn't pull away. "Ginny. I'm not asking for anything definite. Not at the moment. I agree that it wouldn't be a good idea. Just... all I want right now is for you to say you'll give it a try, okay? That's all. Is that... is that something you want, too?"

He looks so vulnerable, and it's difficult for her to resist him. Should she even be trying to? It's not like he's asking her for a serious commitment - not yet, anyway. And she really wouldn't _mind_ finding out exactly how many more tricks he knows, preferably in an actual bed this time. She isn't sure whether it's a good idea to get involved with someone else so soon, but…

Ginny sighs. "I don't know what I want." She watches for the first signs of disappointment to touch his face, and then says, "Maybe you can help me find out?"

The smile on Draco's face is priceless.

VII.

She's sprawled on her stomach with a quill in one hand and the invitation list in the other. It's a short list. Dipping the quill in the inkpot, she says, "I don't think that we should invite Harry to the wedding." She looks up at him and smirks. "That is, unless you want to?"

He laughs, and his wicked grey eyes are alight with joy and triumph. Maybe there's a little smugness there, too. "No." He leans down and kisses her delicately on the end of the nose, then flops onto the bed next to her. "I don't think so. Not even I'm quite that cruel."


End file.
